August 15, 2019, Yachats, Oregon
As usual, looking up at the night sky for UFOs, — the daytime sky as well. Lots of UFO and Sasquatch activity on the Oregon coast and coastal range. But other than that, I wasn’t thinking of UFOs in particular. Hadn’t even been on-line because the wi fi is so iffy on the coast, and I wasn’t reading any UFO books. (although I did have many with me, as well as notes on various UFO expereinces. My go to take along when I travel. Still, I hadn’t even looked at any of my notes or books.) The dream I had last night was just so damn intense. Interesting how the emotional impact of a dream takes on such importance, no matter the subject or actions in the dream.
And, before this: I was having trouble sleeping. Not sure why. Mini migraines past two days and that’s unusual, I don’t get those on the coast. Had my sleep mask on. Felt something small get up on the bed; felt the pressure. It was definitely a small creature; it kneaded the bed by my side a little and settled in. At first I thought the movement was from an earthquake. Or, that an animal had come through the open window, which of course makes no sense. (We were on the second floor.) Then I got it: my cat had visited me. We left him at home and I was thinking of him, he hates it when we leave. Mango had sent me a ‘I miss you” message.
UFO Music in a bubble
This dream was very intense. Throughout the dream was clear and strong message that I must remember this.
I’m standing in front of a large window. Black as black night sky. No stars. I hear music, but it’s not coming from where you’d think. Meaning, when we hear something, regardless of the kind of sound, it sounds. . . ‘normal’ it’s coming from somewhere. The sound might be odd, but the fact you can hear it isn’t. Hard to explain. But this sound, wasn’t in my head, and wasn’t from out there. It was from. . . another dimension. Inside a bubble The best I can explain this is the sound I have heard in a few hauntings. Voices, EVPs, laughter, very clear, but not from . . . here. Not in my head, not from, say, the other room. But from another place. Another space.
The music I heard was classical, very nice. But not from here. Then white letters appear on this window, against the black sky. The dream itself is almost in black and white. Sentences appear; “UFO. are REAL” and all kinds of other statements about the reality of UFOs. For emphasis some of the words get larger and move closer towards me. They — the aliens — are clearly communicating with me. And they want me to tell others. I can’t see these aliens, but their ship is clearly outlined in this dark sky. A very large ship. The words keep coming. The music is a part of ‘them’ — and it’s clear. Aliens (or at least these aliens) come from, not from outer space or within the earth but another dimension right next to us. All around us, all the time, they’re here, in bubbles — that’s how they travel. They’re aware of us and wish we could be aware of them. Some of us are. Most are not.
And then, further information: these “bubbles” are related to the orange orb I saw, as well as other orbs. The message I received was: “These orbs (including your orange orb) are a part of this. We are UFOs. We are here. We are aware of you.”
Then theses aliens tell me I have to get the word out, and to help me,
I told my husband about the dream as we were driving back from the coast into Eugene. I mentioned that the emotional intensity, the importance of the dream, goes beyond the content. He said “It sounds more like a communication than a dream.” I agree.
Sometimes dreams are “just” dreams. Other times, they are truly more than that; messages from the astral. From spirit. From . . . more.
An added note: I love listening to the ocean while I’m going to sleep. Both nights we were on the coast, I tried very hard to ignore other sounds: my own snoring, my husband’s snoring, traffic from the highway, the occasional barking dog, people returning to their cabins. That night, I had finally succeeded in tuning out everything except the ocean roar, and had more than one “mind post card” — the brilliant silver tops of the waves jumping into my mind’s eye. It was intense, sudden and magnificant.